The Fourth Sacrifice Read Online Free PDF Page A

world, at the far side of the terrace. He leaned towards her, confidentially. ‘The two guitar-like instruments with the circular sound boxes – they’re called ruans , or sometimes “moon guitars”. You can see why.’ And Margaret could, particularly out here on the terrace, the pale wood of the perfectly round sound boxes flashing in the reflected light of discreet overhead lamps, for all the world like two moons dancing in time to the music. She liked the analogy. There was something pleasing about it. She finished her vodka.
    ‘Shall I get you another?’ Michael asked.
    ‘No. It would only encourage me to get drunk.’ She paused selfconsciously, then added quickly, ‘And, besides, the waiters in here aren’t up to much.’
    He smiled, but had sensed in her the melancholy she had immediately tried to disguise. He said, ‘You’ve had a rough few months.’
    She flashed him a look, more defensive than hostile. ‘And you’d know all about that.’
    He shrugged. ‘No. All I really know is that you’re the lady who put out those scare stories on the Net about genetically contaminated rice.’
    ‘They weren’t scare stories,’ she almost snapped.
    ‘Hey,’ he said, and raised his palms protectively. ‘I don’t know about you, but I figure that claims that half the population of the world is at risk are pretty scary.’
    She relented a little and forced a half-hearted smile. ‘We feared the worst. You should just be glad it didn’t turn out that way in the end. But don’t underestimate it. OK, so the virus wasn’t there in all the rice, and thank God a lot of people turned out to have a natural immunity, but there are still millions of people at risk.’
    ‘I read they think there’s a cure just around the corner.’
    ‘Well, let’s hope they’re right.’
    There was an awkward pause. Then Michael said, ‘So, I suppose it’s you to blame for us having to eat all these goddamn noodles. Boy, that must have made you popular with the Chinese.’
    She grinned sheepishly. ‘Another few weeks and the first new crop’ll be in. They just went back to the old, natural seed. And they can harvest three crops a year, so they’ll get their precious rice back soon enough.’
    They stood in silence then, listening to the strange cadences of the traditional Chinese music, the wail of the two-stringed erh hu violin, the haunting breath of the purple bamboo flute, the two moons dancing, and the twang of the dulcimer. Margaret had no idea what to say. She had just dismissed the last three months of her life in a sentence, and made light of it, as if none of it had ever really mattered. She was aware of Michael’s sheer physicality as he stood silently at her shoulder. How was it possible, she wondered, that she could be attracted to this man when her relationship with Li had left her so raw? The thought scared her a little. And she remembered what it was most people usually forgot – that there was no such thing as harmless flirting.
    ‘I’d better go,’ she said.
    ‘You’ve only just arrived.’
    ‘Yeah, but it’s your party. I don’t want to monopolise you.’
    ‘You can monopolise me any time.’
    She glanced at him, looking for the smile, but he wasn’t smiling, and she felt a flutter of fear in her breast, like a butterfly trapped just beneath the skin. But, then, suddenly she felt him relax again.
    ‘Look, why don’t you come out to location tomorrow? We’re setting up some dramatic recreations at the Ming Tombs. It’s only an hour out of Beijing.’
    ‘I’m sorry, I can’t,’ she said. ‘I have a flight to catch in the morning.’
    He frowned. ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘Home,’ she said simply.
    He seemed confused. ‘Home being where?’
    ‘Chicago.’
    ‘When’ll you be back?’
    ‘Never,’ she said, and the finality of the word struck her like a blow, bringing her to her senses. ‘I really do have to go.’
    ‘Hi, how are you two getting on?’ They both turned at the